Carpe Noctem
by Addicted Archangel
Summary: Reid is plagued with horrible, unexplainable nightmares. But what happens when the nightly terrors evolve into something else? Something very real and much more terrifying than any nightmare he could ever imagine. Nights are no longer made for sleeping..
1. Night Terrors

**A/N: Look who's back! Thought I'd give it another go with fanfiction, my fingers have been itching with evil for quite some time now and it's nice to have an outlet.. Off to a running start with this baby! And this was betaread by the lovely LT, who has magically reappeared in my time of need! Hope you like it, guys!**

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>"Those with the greatest awareness have the greatest nightmares" -Mahatma Ghandi<em>**

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_Shadows everywhere. Closing in. Slowly. Menacingly. Frightening. There is nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. Trapped. Caught. Cornered. Screams make no sound. Can't move. Can't breathe. Towering high above. Cold hands reaching out, clawing. Tears. Pain. Fear. Dragged into darkness. Drowning._

_It's your mind._

_It's your mind._

_It's your mind._

-o-o-o-

Spencer Reid woke from his sleep with a blood curdling scream. In less than two seconds after his eyes snapped open in panic he had tumbled out of bed and crawled backwards up against the bedroom wall. Panting wildly, he looked around as if something from his nightmare had followed him into the real world and was ready to attack at any given moment.

It took a full ten minutes for the young agent to calm down after his less than serene awakening. Once his breathing had settled, he pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his forehead against his knees. Still feeling his heart pounding heavily in his chest, he tried to push the nightmare as far away as possible.

He'd been having the nightmares for over a month now, and they were only getting worse. In the beginning they were only enough to rattle him from his sleep momentarily, and he could settle back into his pillow and float back into more pleasant dreams. But as the weeks went on, the nightmares only became worse and worse, and now he hadn't had an entire night's sleep in over a week. Every night he'd wake up screaming in terror.

Reid had tried analyzing the dreams to the best of his knowledge, but one can only read so much into menacing shadows dragging you into darkness. Considering his profession he figured it was no wonder that the nightmares had returned. But this bad?

On unsteady legs he rose, still leaning against the wall. He was soaked in sweat. The green pajama he was wearing clung to his body like a second skin. A glance out the window told him that it would be morning soon enough, so he might as well give up the urge to go back to sleep. Frankly, he wasn't too keen on revisiting the land of nightmares any time soon anyway.

After a short shower and a quick once over, young Dr. Reid grabbed his satchel and a travel cup of coffee he had prepared before going into the bathroom. The drive to work was only half an hour, but he figured he could get to the office early and get some long overdue paper work done before the rest of the team arrived. With a yawn, he closed the door to his apartment, locked it and shuffled down the hallway towards the parking lot outside.

-o-o-o-

Derek Morgan was the first to arrive at the bullpen that morning. At least that was what he thought when he walked through the big glass doors leading into his work area. To his surprise, a tousled figure sat hunched over one of the desks, seemingly engulfed in a file.

Frowning, Morgan strode over to his colleague's desk. "Reid?" he asked. When he didn't receive an answer, he rounded the table and peered under the frizzy bangs of his young co-worker. It may have looked like Reid was hard at work, but in fact he was deep asleep; his head rested in his hand as he leaned onto the desk.

Morgan reached out a careful hand and placed it gently on Reid's shoulder. "Hey, kid." The reaction he got was certainly not one he expected.

Reid flew up in complete panic, letting out a shrill scream, and after backing away a few steps he tripped over Prentiss' chair and tumbled onto the floor, arms flailing wildly.

The older agent calmly walked round the desk and looked at the crumpled heap on the floor before crouching down beside Reid. "You okay?"

Reid gasped for air as he covered his face with his hands. "Yeah… Don't do that!"

"Sorry, Reid." Morgan tried his luck once again by putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder. This time the response was calmer. "I didn't know you'd freak out."

The young agent shook his head. "It's okay." Now that he thought about it, he was happy that no one else had seen that little show. He was embarrassed enough as it was. "You just startled me a bit."

Morgan chuckled. "Startled? Kid, I'd say you were pretty close to needing an underwear change." Standing up, he reached out a hand to the man still on the floor who happily took it and pulled himself up.

With a sheepish smile, Reid lifted Prentiss' chair from the floor and shoved it back against her desk. The papers in his file had scattered every which way as he'd jumped from the table and he began collecting them from the floor around him.

Morgan frowned as he helped his colleague gather his file. "Are you alright, Reid?" There was something in the young man's demeanor that made him look even more awkward than usual, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "You've been a little out of it lately."

Reid shrugged. "I've been having some trouble sleeping, that's all."

But Morgan knew better than to leave it at that. Catching his friend's arm in a soft grip, he made Reid turn towards him. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

The young agent easily pulled his arm out if his colleague's grip. "I know, Morgan. But trust me, I'm fine. I could just need some sleep." In actuality, the last person he would talk to about his nightmares was Morgan. Last time he had done that Morgan had run straight to Gideon. Fair enough, the situation worked itself out fine, but still.

"Maybe you need to take some time off?"

Reid felt like snorting. Like that would help. More time to brood about the nightmares, no thanks. "I'm fine. Hey look, there's Prentiss." He quickly rose while Morgan was briefly distracted waving hello to their female colleague. After dropping his file onto his desk, Reid hurried out into the kitchen to put on another pot of coffee before anyone could ask him any more questions.

-o-o-o-

The flight to Burbank was long and bumpy. The turbulence on the jet was almost enough to send everyone in the team into fits of airsickness. Never had there been so many air pockets and thunderstorms as there were today. After the briefing and initial discussion about the profile Reid had tried to get some sleep before they arrived. The third time he was startled out of the seat by the flash of a sudden bolt of lightning he gave up and took up a case file. He tried reading it, but everything looked like gibberish and the letters seemed to be bouncing around wildly on the pages. Not even the distorted faces of the mauled victims made any sense to him as he found them all to look like ground beef. In fact, that wasn't too far away from the truth.

With an annoyed sigh he threw the file onto the table and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. His eyes burned like fire, screaming for sleep. It was the one thing he was not able to grant them.

"Hey."

The voice startled him and he jerked his head up. He hadn't even noticed that Prentiss had sat down in front of him. "Hey," he croaked, surprised over the hoarseness of his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey."

"Are you alright? You look like death warmed over."

Reid sighed. "That's really encouraging, Emily."

"I'm sorry." Emily tilted her head slightly. "But you do look really tired. Why don't you get some sleep before it's wheels down?"

"Well, I tried that but Mother Nature had other plans for me." Reid yawned involuntarily and covered it badly with his hand. "I just need some more coffee."

"You had six cups already, and it's only 9AM." Prentiss reached across the table and put her hand over Reid's, which was resting over the case file. "I'm starting to worry about you."

Normally, Reid would shun the sensation of human touch, but he was too tired to make up a reason to pull away. Looking up, he met Emily's eyes. There was genuine concern there, not just mock care. Reid sighed deeply and lowered his gaze. "I've been having trouble sleeping."

"How come?"

"I've…been having these…nightmares." He waited for her to chuckle or smirk, but there was nothing of the sort. Instead, her fingers tightened around his hand.

"What kind of nightmares?" Her voice was slightly hushed.

Reid chewed the inside of his cheek. "Just…nightmares. I don't even know what they're about. It's just a lot of darkness."

Prentiss gave him a slightly sad smile. "It's not so strange that you have nightmares, considering what we do. We see things not many other people even have nightmares about. No wonder it finds its way into your brain at night."

Reid frowned. "It's not even that common to have nightmares when you're an adult, the ratio decreases radically from the age of 15 to 25. I should be past it by now."

A soft chuckle escaped Prentiss' lips. "Well, that's calculating on a normal brain, isn't it? Your brain is all but normal, Reid. There are things going on in there that are impossible to put under a microscope."

The young agent smirked. "Yeah… I just wish I knew why I can't get rid of them. They're getting a lot more intense now, and I… I…" He couldn't finish the sentence, telling Prentiss that he'd wake up screaming every night since last Tuesday. "I really need to sleep."

"I wish I could help you, Reid."

Somehow, Reid knew she wasn't just saying it. She really meant it. "Thanks. It'll be alright. If I just get one good night's sleep, I'm sure it'll pass."

Prentiss gave his hand one last squeeze before releasing it. "If there's anything you want to talk about, you know where to find me. We're a team, you know." A smart smile grazed her lips before she took the file from the table and folded it open in her lap.

Reid leaned back into the seat. He would just rest his eyes for a bit before they landed.

-o-o-o-

The case they had been called in to help with was nothing out of the ordinary for the BAU. A serial killer targeting high-risk victims in high-risk areas, leaving only mangled corpses behind in alleyways. The profile indicated that it was a mutated form of a house cleaner, targeting prostitutes and homeless people in a secluded part of Burbank. The team was optimistic about capturing this UnSub in a not too distant future and the profile had already been sent to every officer in the department.

At 1AM the team retreated to the hotel to rest before resuming the hunt in the morning.

"Be ready in the lobby at 7AM", Hotch had said before they all headed to their rooms with their overnight bags dangling from their shoulders.

Reid shuffled into his room, dropping his bag on the floor with a dull thud. He was so tired that his legs could hardly carry him. His head was spinning madly and when he finally was able to kick off his shoes, he collapsed across the bed, falling asleep almost instantaneously.

The day had been hell. His brain was operating at 30% capacity, at the very most. The young agent had felt utterly worthless during the entire profiling session, not being able to form intelligible trains of thought for the others to follow. There were many frowns and annoyed faces before Reid finally decided to shut his mouth and tried to focus his mind on the case in silence instead.

Hotch had caught him by the arm in the hallway and sternly looked him in the eye as they had left the police station. "Is there something I need to know here, Reid?"

He had shaken his head intently. "No, Hotch. I'm just tired."

"Make sure you get some sleep then. You can't do your best if you're walking around like a zombie."

"I know, Hotch. I'm sorry." He had been mortified.

Maybe tomorrow would prove to be a better day.

-o-o-o-

Reid woke slowly the next morning. As he blinked against the dim light coming from the window, he realized that hadn't woken up screaming. There hadn't been any nightmares. Not that he could remember anyway.

He was ecstatic. He hadn't had a whole night's sleep in weeks! Finally, the nightmares were letting go! Maybe he really just did need to talk about it with someone. He silently thanked Prentiss with a quick smile.

Sitting up in the bed, he found himself fully clothed, and remembered collapsing the night before.

_I guess that was what I needed. Complete and utter exhaustion. What the…?_

As he looked down onto his feet, he frowned deeply. His shoes were neatly tied, like they always were, but they were absolutely filthy. Mud and sludge covered the usually brown leather, and the muck continued up onto his gray slacks, stopping only at his knees.

"What in the world…?"

Looking down onto his shirt, he found more mud and unidentifiable stains. With gaping mouth, he eyed his hands. They were covered in dirt.

"The hell…?"

His mouth tasted of mud. What had happened to him?

Reid carefully made his way to the bathroom to wash the grime away from his body. He stopped in front of the mirror; a look of utter horror greeting him.

His face was covered in dried blood.


	2. Found in the Mud

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed! It feels good to be back in the game, and I hope I can make this story as awesome as my other ones... (ego-tripping much?) And thanks to the lovely LT for doing my beta reading!**

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**_"Life is made up of marble and mud." -Nathaniel Hawthorne_**

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Reid stared at his reflection in the mirror, unable to move a single muscle for what seemed like an eternity. His face was completely covered in dried, brownish blood. The mess was in his hair, making the already unruly strands stick together like a macabre dreadlock-esque manner. Splatter of blood stained his shirt, along with big cakes of dried up mud and dirt. He looked like he had been in a fight with a rabid warthog.

When Reid could finally move again, he slowly lifted his hands to his face, as if to make sure that it was actually real. Running his fingers over his cheeks and forehead, the dry mess scraped against his skin and made him cringe. It was real. But what had happened? He looked down upon himself, taking in the horrendous state he was in. But he didn't seem to be hurt in any way.

Frowning, the young agent dug his fingers into his rigid hair, feeling his scalp. There was nothing there. He scrutinized his face and arms, ran his hands up and down his body outside his clothes, feeling every limb and muscle. Looking back up into the mirror, he came to a very unsettling conclusion.

None of the blood was his.

He felt his heart beginning to pound faster. What had happened last night? With unsteady fingers, he began unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it over his head. While watching himself in the mirror, he discovered what seemed to be a couple of forming bruises on his chest, but no cuts or wounds. When the young man removed his trousers, he was near panic. Not one day since grade school had he forgotten to put on underwear, and he _knew_ he had put on fresh ones yesterday when he got out of bed. Nevertheless, he was not wearing any now.

Steadying himself on the sink, Reid had to take a few breaths to keep a panic attack at bay. The whole situation was absurd; like a horrid practical joke gone completely awry. On shaking feet, he made it into the shower stall after kicking off his ruined suede shoes and grubby socks. The only thing on his mind right now was to get clean; to get this disgusting mess off his body. Everything else had to take a step back. First he had to get clean. If he just got clean, everything would be at least a little better.

When the first warm bursts of water hit him, it was like a godsend. Simply standing there under the hot flow and feeling the grime wash off almost made Reid forget whatever situation he was in. Leaning forward, he put both palms against the tiles over his head. Through half-lidded eyes he could see the filthy water seep down into the sewers. Mud mixed with blood made the water turn a murky burgundy color as it whirled away.

After standing under the shower for several minutes, Reid began washing himself. There almost wasn't enough soap and shampoo for him to get all the filth off, but eventually he was satisfied with the result. It only took him an hour.

As he turned off the water and opened the shower door to reach for a towel, he heard an ominously hard knock on the door and froze. His arm was still in the air, reaching for the towel as he listened. A thousand thoughts flew through his mind.

"Reid!" The voice boomed through the door, followed by yet another hard knock. This time it was less of a knock and more of a pounding.

Reid snapped back into the real world. He snatched the towel off the rack and wrapping it around his waist, he hurried into the hotel room. He almost slipped on the tiles in the bathroom but managed to steady himself enough to make it to the door. He quickly pulled the safety latch off and opened the door while the person on the other side was still furiously banging it.

"Where have you been? It's 7.30." Hotch sternly stared him down in the manner which only a superior can.

"I'm sorry!" Reid blurted while trying to keep his towel from falling down. His mussed up hair hung in his eyes and it was a miracle he could see at all. Water dripped everywhere. "I'm sorry, I was in the shower. I forgot about the time, I'll be down in five minutes."

"You had better be. There's been another murder." Hotch gave Reid an unmistakable look of 'get yourself together' and turned to leave.

Reid slowly closed the door and leaned against it; an exasperated look on his face. His mind kept wanting to put two and two together, but the young agent refused to connect whatever had happened last night with what he now _knew_ had happened last night. There was no possible way he could have been… No. He shook it off. Searching his extraordinary mind, he found something that could explain at least a smidgeon of last night. While drying off and putting his clothes on, he recited it silently inside his head.

_Sleepwalking, also known as somnambulism, is a sleep disorder belonging to the parasomnia family. Sleepwalkers arise from the slow wave sleep stage in a state of low consciousness and perform activities that are usually performed during a state of full consciousness. These activities can be as benign as sitting up in bed, walking to the bathroom, and cleaning, or as hazardous as cooking, driving, extremely violent gestures or grabbing at hallucinated objects._

As he threw his satchel over his shoulder, he began pondering the possibilities of someone actually going out in the middle of the night during a sleepwalking episode and physically hurting someone or something. There were documented cases where sleepwalkers had killed their spouses or family members, but from what he could remember there had been no reported case where someone had just randomly attacked a stranger while sleepwalking. Reid shook his head. Sleepwalking. Had he ever sleepwalked as a child? Or was his mind playing tricks on him?

The young man knew he had to momentarily shake it off. He had to go downstairs and be the agent he needed to be to find the serial killer du jour. But at the same time, he knew full well that he wouldn't be able to perform anywhere near his capacity having his mind occupied by this.

As he exited the room, he considered telling someone about what he had woken up to. At the same moment the thought entered his mind, he decided against it. First, he had to find out of something had indeed happened or if he had simply sleepwalked and had a nosebleed or something. The logical side of Reid's mind screamed at him that he was being a complete tool for even thinking such a ridiculous thing, but self preservation took the upper hand. He would wait until he knew more.

He hurried to the elevator. His five minutes were almost up and Hotch would have his head if there was any more delays today. As he reached the lobby, he saw his superior, Prentiss and Morgan standing by the great glass door exit, waiting patiently for him. Taking a firm grip of his satchel, he padded across the lobby towards them, but halted himself mid-stride. He glanced towards the reception. His team hadn't seen him yet. The young doctor walked over to the receptionist.

"Excuse me."

The middle aged receptionist looked up from his computer screen and with an immediate smile he rose. "Yes, sir, what can I help you with?"

"Uhm, I was wondering… Did you work last night?"

"Why yes I did, I was here until 2AM."

"This may sound a little strange, but…" Reid cringed inwardly. "Did you see me leave the hotel at any point?"

The receptionist frowned ever so slightly but managed to keep his smile. "Yes, sir, you left the hotel around 1.30 last night. Why do you ask?"

Reid didn't answer the question. "Did you see me return?"

"I'm sorry, no. Like I said, I got off at 2AM. Is there something wrong, sir?"

"No, nothing. Thank you." Reid hurried away from the reception, his stomach in knots. He _had_ left the hotel last night. There was no explaining this any longer. Something had happened. The question remaining was: what?

-o-o-o-

Reid entered the police station with the rest of his team, save for Rossi who was already there waiting for them. They all hurried into their conference room where they had headquarters set up. Their contact person with the police, Detective Hollender, followed them in.

"You said there had been another murder", Hotch said, turning to the Detective.

"Yeah, last night." He handed over a file to Hotch. "We found the body an hour ago, called you right away."

Hotch opened the file and gave it one single glance. He promptly closed it and handed it back to the detective. "This isn't our UnSub."

The detective was flabbergasted. "What? How can you tell?"

"It's neither the same type of victim, MO or area. This is the work of someone else."

The detective was at a loss for words. "But…"

"You can't run in here with every random body you find in the mud, Detective Hollender. I agree it is yet another tragedy, but it will do nothing but throw us off the case at hand." Hotch did not say another word, and Detective Hollender padded out the door with a confused and slightly angry look on his face.

The superior turned to his team. "Now let's get to work. There was no new murder, meaning we still have time to…"

Reid drifted out, no longer hearing the words his superior was saying. He only heard the words Hotch had uttered moments ago. _"You can't run in here with every random body you find in the mud… Random body you find in the mud… Find in the mud… In the mud… The mud…"_ Reid suddenly felt nauseous. He snapped back into reality when Morgan roughly nudged him.

"Kid!"

The younger agent shook his head to focus. "What?"

Hotch looked at him. "I said that you and Prentiss stay here at the station and try to triangulate a comfort zone. There will be three witnesses coming in around nine, you handle them as well." Hotch frowned. Something was bothering his youngest subordinate, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He could only hope that Reid had not once more turned to the vial to ease his worries.

Reid watched as the remainder of his team exited the station, and then turned to Prentiss. "I just have to go to the bathroom, start without me."

Prentiss nodded, but before the younger agent had left the room, she turned to him. "Hey, Reid?"

He halted in the doorway. "Yes?"

"You didn't sleep well last night, did you?"

Reid let his gaze drop to the floor. "Not really."

Prentiss tilted her head slightly. "It'll get better."

He nodded. "I hope so." _But not before it gets worse_, he thought as he exited the room. First he headed towards the bathrooms, but when a quick glance over his shoulder told him that Prentiss was well occupied with the map, he changed his direction and walked towards Detective Hollender's desk.

"Detective?"

The middle aged policeman looked up from his stack of papers? "Yes, Agent?"

"Could I have a look at that file you gave to my superior?"

Detective Hollender reached for a file. "Well, sure. You think they can be connected anyway?"

"I don't know yet. I just want to have a look." Taking the file from the detective, he walked back towards the bathrooms. He hurried inside and placed himself on top of one of the toilets in a stall. Flipping the file open on his lap, he began to read.

"Felicia Hunt, 38… Blunt force trauma… Time of death approximately 3-5AM… Body found at a construction site on Riverside Drive." Reid blinked. That was less than three blocks from their hotel. He quickly flipped through the file, eying the crime scene photos. Heavy rains the day before had turned the entire construction site to a muddy wasteland. From what he could see in the pictures, people walking in the sludge could easily sink down to their calves in the sticky mess.

Leaning back onto the toilet seat, he closed his eyes. The thoughts ravaging his mind were horrible.

_I didn't do this, this is ridiculous. How can I even think that? I must have been sleepwalking and trudged around in some mud pile. That's it. That's all there is. But the blood…? It must be my own. I must have hurt myself somewhere I haven't seen or found yet. Yes, that's it. I have to stop working myself up. It's insane._

Reid took a deep breath and opened his eyes. It felt better now. He knew there was no way he could have been responsible for anything like this. He was just over thinking things. He flipped another page in the file, and nearly dropped it. His fingers tightened around the papers, threatening to rip them apart. It couldn't be.

But even with a face full of blood and mud it was clear as day.

The victim, Felicia Hunt, was the spitting image of Emily Prentiss.


End file.
